


Missing Piece

by queer_queeeen



Category: The Catcher in the Rye - J. D. Salinger
Genre: Holden's POV, Implied/Referenced Character Death, POV First Person, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:27:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28880946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queer_queeeen/pseuds/queer_queeeen
Summary: Holden remembers a time with Allie prior to his death.It's pretty much all about Allie's baseball glove
Kudos: 3





	Missing Piece

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a writer in the slightest sense, this was written for English class, but anyway, enjoy!

There was this one time when Allie and I were just throwing a ball around in the yard. I’d never played before, but Old Allie was on a team. We quickly realized I was pretty lousy at it, so we just stuck to tossing it a couple of feet back and forth. He didn’t try to make small talk. Old Allie was good like that. Instead, he just told me about him. His school, his baseball team, his friends. Just everything and anything. But he’s gone now. All I’m left with is his goddamn baseball glove! But what good will that do without him to use it? To an outsider, it may seem like D.B. and I are close, but to tell you the truth, we’re not really. Not as close as Old Allie and I were. He would ask me about school, and I wouldn’t feel the need to lie about it. Whenever D.B. tries to talk to me he asks how my friends are and that kinda crap. 

So now I’m just sittin’ there staring at the goddamn glove, all because Stradlater wanted me to write his composition. It’s stirring up memories, good and bad, like how he wrote poems all over so he wouldn’t get bored in the field, or when we first learned he had leukemia. It was all downhill from there. My parents decided to stay and have the funeral in Maine, for god knows what reason. It was uneventful, as far as funerals go. That was also the problem. The whole thing made me mad. I was mad at Old Allie for leaving me so soon, mad at my family for not saying much about him, and mad at the world. I flunked out of school after that. I kept flunking classes and leaving the schools. Now I’m leaving Pencey, but my parents don’t know and won’t know. I’m interrupted by the rustling of the shower curtains, and out steps Old Ackley, moving to poke around my stuff like he always does. 

“Where’s Stradlater?”


End file.
